The Human Element
by Callinectes
Summary: When Harry and Ron decide it's best to leave Hermione behind, Fred and George take her in. What Hermione can't fathom is what she's more worried about: Harry and Ron encountering danger without her...or going into hiding with the Weasley twins.
1. Liability

**Chapter 1: Liability**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.

Hermione jumped at the sound of someone knocking on her bedroom door. She turned sharply and let out a sigh of relief when she saw Harry and Ron standing in the doorway. The three of them had become a bit jumpy during the summer ever since Molly learned that they were up to something. She smiled at them and held up two books.

"Good. You two are here," she said. "I can't figure out which we should take with us. I'm stuck between _Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions_…and _Curses and Counter-curses_."

"Hermione," Ron said softly, avoiding her gaze.

She exhaled and let her arms drop do her sides, her hands still clutching the tomes. "I know, I know. They both sound the same, but I think _Compendium_ is a bit more comprehensive and proved useful in D.A., but I've always had a fondness for _Counter Curses_."

"Hermione," Ron said a bit more loudly.

Tilting her head to the side, she smiled fondly at her two best friends. "I _know_. It would probably just be easier to take them both. It _would_ be better if we were extra prepared, right?"

"Hermione, we need to talk to you," Ron gritted out.

Her expression softened at the seriousness in his tone. Gently, she placed the books down on her bed and sat down, folding her legs beneath her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Err," Harry spoke up, "there's real no easy way to say this, but—"

"We want you to stay behind," Ron blurted out.

Hermione wasn't sure how to react. Actually, she wasn't even sure she heard him right.

"I'm sorry, you want me to what?" she squeaked.

Ron cast an uneasy glance in Harry's direction, who shifted nervously from foot to foot. Pressing his lips together, Ron crossed the room and gingerly sat down on the bed next to her. He moved his hands to cover hers, but changed his mind at the last moment.

"I—_we_ think it's for the best," he told her. "We don't—"

"No." Hermione's voice was shaky and hoarse. "_No,_ Ron." She finally turned her head to look at him, anger and fury obvious in her glistening eyes. "You _need_ me. Harry needs _both_ of us."

"Harry and I've been talking about that, actually," Ron tried to explain. "We don't want you to get hurt and honestly, just the two of us would be difficult to conceal. Harry's not happy about me coming along as it is. He's a bit daft wanting to do this alone, if you ask me."

At this point, unbeknownst to Hermione and Ron, Harry had closed the door and cast a silencing charm. They already caused enough damage by telling the rest of the Weasleys that Hermione would not be joining them on their errand. The two boys had enough trouble trying to weasel themselves out of having to explain that they _couldn't_ tell anyone what they were doing.

They did, however, make it clear to the rest of the Weasleys that Hermione was not to return to school. It would be unsafe, now that Dumbledore was gone.

He almost didn't realize that he zoned out for a bit. When he returned his attention to his two best friends, Hermione was shrieking at Ron and hitting him with one of the books. Harry cringed when he realized it was the heavier of the two.

"You ungrateful" — _whack!_ — "selfish" — _whack!_ — "stupid—"

Before she could assault Ron again, Harry decided it was time to intervene. "Hermione, stop. _Stop!_"

She turned to glare at him, book raised slightly. She was poised to hit _him_ next. Before she could, however, he backed up slightly.

"How _could_ you?" she demanded accusingly.

"It's for the best," Ron tried to explain desperately, rubbing the spot where she attacked him. "We don't—"

"Want me to get hurt," she mimicked, turning on him again. "Yes, I know. You've said that already. Well, what about you? I'm sure Harry doesn't want _you_ to get hurt, right? So what's so different about me? Is it because I'm a girl? Do you think I'm weak?"

"No, of course not!" Ron answered quickly. "It's just…you're…"

"I'm what?"

"You're a…"

"I'm a _what_?" Hermione growled.

Ron refused to look at her, instead staring at his feet.

"Say it, Ron," she demanded. She had a sinking feeling she already knew what he was about to say, but she wanted to hear the words coming from his mouth. She wanted confirmation.

He swallowed hard. Finally, he dragged his head up, but still refused to meet her gaze. "It's just…you're a…"

He trailed off again, not quite sure how to say what he wanted without being hurtful. He looked at Harry for help, but he refused to even look at him.

"I'm a Mudblood," she whispered for him. _Coward_.

Ron let out a strangled noise that neither confirmed nor denied it.

She choked back a sob that had started to work its way up her throat. "You don't want me to come because I'm a _Mudblood_," she spat, voice wavering.

"Hermione, we just think it's better if you stay here where it's safer."

She sighed heavily and sat back down on the bed. "Of all the times I helped you out of messes _you_ got yourselves into. Of all the times you needed _my_ help. How about first year with the Sorcerer's Stone? Or all the times I helped _you_, Harry with everything during the Triwizard Tournament? DA? I've been nothing but loyal to both of you and _this_ is how you repay me? By asking me to stay home because it's _safer_?"

Once her rant was done, she looked up at Ron to find him looking even more uneasy.

"Hermione…" he started, but failed. He wasn't sure how to say it. But he didn't need to; the look on his face was answer enough.

"I'm a liability," she whispered, her face beet red. "You don't want me to come because I'm a _liability_. You think because I'm a Mudblood I'll endanger you two even more."

"It's safer for you," Ron repeated.

"No," she spat, standing up again. "It's safer for _you_." She turned to Harry. "And what about you, hmm? You haven't said a word. Was this your idea?"

His lack of response was answer enough. Exhaling sharply, she marched out of the room.

-oOo-

Hermione hadn't spoken to Harry and Ron since they broke the news to her. She was hoping she wouldn't have to speak to them again before they left, but she knew seeing them would be inevitable. Even if she couldn't go with them, she still had to help them in whatever way they could. Though she was livid with the two of them, they still needed her…even if they didn't want to admit it.

It wasn't until Bill and Fleur's wedding that she finally approached them. She walked unsteadily to the table where Harry and Ron were sitting and dropped two identical beaded black bags. The boys started at the surprisingly loud thump the small bags made.

"Going away gifts?" Ron asked uncertainly. His shaky smile quickly faded at her deadly scowl.

"I know it's hard for you," Hermione replied icily, sitting down across the table from them, "but don't be so stupid. I may be a...liability to you both, but that doesn't mean I still can't help. I packed everything you'll need into this bag." She pushed one of the bags towards Harry, offering Ron an icy glare. "I'll keep the other for myself."

With a small sigh, she glanced around the garden before returning her attention to her friends. She reached into her bag and pulled out three coins. She handed one to Harry, hesitating before tossing the other to Ron.

"What are these?" Ron asked, turning his coin over in his palm.

"These look like the ones from—"

"D.A., yes," Hermione interrupted, not even bothering to look pleased that Harry actually remembered. "I made some alterations, however. All you have to do is speak the simple incantation and my coin will vibrate to let me know you want to talk, and vice versa."

"What's the incantation?" Harry asked.

"_Loqui per pecuniam_," she whispered, nodding once in satisfaction when the coins gave a slight buzz.

Harry beamed at her. "This is brilliant!" he exclaimed, turning the coin over in his hands before pocketing it. He reached out to touch the fabric of the bag, admiring it. "How did you fit everything in here?"

She shrugged. "It's a simple spell, really," she replied vaguely as she got to her feet, bag in hand. She looked Ron in the eye before saying, "Any idiot can do it." She walked away before she could say anything mean to Ron, who she knew deserved it.

-oOo-

"So, I haff to ask," Viktor said as he twirled Hermione around.

"Yes?" She lifted her eyebrows at him.

"Are you and Veasley together?"

She started coughing, causing Viktor to cease dancing and clap her on the back. She had to think fast. On one hand, if she told him that she wasn't seeing Ron, Viktor might swoop in and try to ask her out, which is not something she wanted — especially not now. She definitely didn't want to say yes; she felt a little repulsed by the idea of claiming to be with someone who clearly didn't want to.

So instead, she went with a completely different answer.

"There's, err, someone else," she replied with a small shrug. When she and Viktor resumed dancing, she glared at Ron over the Bulgarian's shoulder.

"Ron and I sort of didn't work out."

"Vot happened?"

"We had a difference of opinion," she said flatly. That was the understatement of the century Shaking her head, she smiled fondly at him. "It is good to see you, though."

He smiled thinly at her. "And you, as vell. I vos sorry to hear about Dumbledore. Vot vill you do now?"

Hermione frowned. "I'm not really sure, to be honest. I don't think I can go back to school."

"You alvays haff a plan," he reminded her

She glared at Harry and Ron again. "I know," she replied. "I suppose things are just bigger than they seem to be."

-oOo-

Hermione sighed and set down the empty bottle of butterbeer onto the table covered with food and drink. She had finally managed to escape several dances with Viktor and was now at a loss of what to do. She refused to speak to Harry and Ron again and avoided them at all cost. She talked to Ginny a little bit, but had to leave before she could accidentally reveal what the two boys were planning on doing. Even though she wasn't going with them, she still couldn't betray their trust to keep their mission quiet.

She grudgingly realized she would have to eventually talk to Harry and Ron before their departure, whenever that was. She wanted to make sure they knew where they were going when they finally left. They had to know that they had to keep moving and not stay in one place for too long. They had to…

She let out a gasp at the sudden sight of a silvery light as it floated gracefully down to the centre of the dance floor. She watched in confused amazement as it slowly transformed into a lynx. It spoke with Kingsley's voice.

"_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming_."

Harry and Ron had to leave _now_. Amidst the frantic screams and running, she forced herself through the ever moving crowd, searching for them. She saw Harry standing alone, clutching the bag she gave him. When he caught her eye, he ran up to her.

"Where's Ron?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," she shot back. "You two have to get out of here!" She gripped his arm tightly so she wouldn't lose him as they wove through the chaos. Part of her never wanted to let go, but knew she had to.

"Ron!" he shouted, searching wildly around for any sign of him in the sea of panicked wedding guests.

Many were already disapparating away, not wanting to deal with the mayhem. Some chose to stay and fight.

"Harry!" Ron panted as he ran up to them.

Hermione instantly let go of Harry's arm, shoving him forcefully towards Ron. Harry looked at her for help and she hastily whispered something in his ear.

"Go," she said forcefully, trying not to let her tears show. She was frightened and felt so out of control over what might or might not happen. It was a feeling she was not accustomed to. "Go!" she shouted.

And before she could watch them safely leave, she felt two sets of hands wrap around her arms and the sudden, all too familiar feeling of being disapparated.

**A/N:** This is a rewrite of the original version of _Human Element_. I made some changes and even wrote out an outline. It will be shorter this time around, about 13 chapters plus an epilgoue. There will be no sequel (_Divine Intervention_). I'm hoping that updates will be weekly. Thanks for reading! I'll be responding to reviews with sneak peeks to the next chapter.

_Locqui per pecuniam_ means "talk through money" in Latin. The Ministry has fallen line is from Deathly Hallows


	2. Misguided

**Chapter 2: Misguided**

Instinct kicked in as soon as her feet touched solid ground. Completely forgetting she had a wand, she started kicking and swinging punches at her two kidnappers. She blindly attacked with no _real_ plan to defend herself. She knew she should have drawn her wand as soon as she saw Kingsley's Patronus. Now she had no way of defending herself.

All hope of freedom diminished when the man behind her pinned her arms to her sides. Well, _now_ she was done for. He clamped a hand over her mouth as he crushed her back into him.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione!" exclaimed a familiar voice. "You really know how to put up a good fight, don't you?"

"And don't you dare take that as a compliment," the man behind her deadpanned.

The muscles in her body slowly began to relax and she opened her eyes, focusing on the man in front of her. She was greeted with a friendly, if not wary, smile and kind brown eyes. She could only assume who was behind her.

Her words were incredibly hard to form with a hand over her mouth, but she gave it a try anyway.

"Joh? Fwah?"

"What?" the two men asked in unison.

Tentatively, Hermione reached up to remove the hand from her mouth.

"George? Fred?" she tried again, this time much more clearly.

The man in front of her — George — grinned sheepishly at her and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Err, yeah. I guess Harry and Ron didn't tell you that—"

"You'll be babysitting me?" Hermione finished with a disbelieving laugh. "The only thing they told me is they don't want me."

She inwardly cringed at how pathetic she must have sounded. She was Hermione Granger — she was supposed to be calm and rational, not emotional and silly. But right now, all she could think about was how Harry and Ron betrayed her. They left her. And they thought Fred and George would be the better alternative?

"What are they doing?" George asked.

Hermione frowned. "I can't tell you. I promised them I wouldn't."

For a minute, the three of them just stood there, no one talking. No one moving. Eventually, Hermione was the first to speak again.

"Fred?"

He shifted behind her. "Yeah?"

"You can let go of me now."

Fred chuckled. As soon as he released her, she stepped away from him so she was facing both Fred and George.

"We've got work to do, anyway," he said. He nodded to his brother. "Georgie?"

Without another word, the twins set about the flat, putting up defensive charms around the perimeter of their flat strong enough to defend an entire army. She watched in amazement as the two worked in perfect unison.

There were times during their mystifying dance that she thought Fred and George would collide with each other and destroy their intricate weave of barrier spells. The silent signals they sent each other — the slightest of nods, hand gestures, and even just a step in a certain direction — set them in fluid motion.

It was utterly breathtaking.

When they were finally done, they both regarded her with bemused expressions. Little did she know, her hair was mussed and her dress was in disarray from both the sudden disapparation and the fight she put up against them. She scowled at them.

"Where will I be sleeping?" she asked, looking around the the twins' home.

The twins lived in a small, two bedroom flat that was in bad need of cleaning. Dirty dishes were piled high in the kitchen sink and a bad smell was emanating from the area. Clothes were strewn all over the floors and furniture; she was certain some of the articles of clothing were weeks — if not months — past due for a wash. Some areas of the wallpaper were peeling, revealing bits of dirt and grime.

She was completely positive that their bedrooms (which were behind closed doors) were in the same — if not worse — condition. She didn't even want to see what the toilet looked like.

This was not a place she looked forward to living in for the next few months — or, she feared, longer.

"You can sleep on the couch," Fred suggested.

As Hermione studied the furniture, she pressed her lips together. It looked as though something had died in it.

"Err, you can take my room if you want," George offered. He shrugged his shoulders when Fred raised his eyebrows at him. "Not as dirty as Fred's, anyway," he added with a grin.

She nodded her head apprehensively, hoping he was right. It couldn't possibly be in worse condition than the rest of the flat.

When she entered his room, however, she wasn't surprised. Though it wasn't _nearly_ as bad as the living room and kitchen, she still wondered how she was going to get any sleep in such a mess.

She probably wasn't going to get much sleep that night anyway. She doubted she could with all the worried thoughts about Harry and Ron swimming through her mind.

Locking the door behind her, she set up some silencing charms. Once she was satisfied that neither of the twins would hear or disturb her, she set her beaded bag down on George's bed and took out the coin. Gingerly, she sat down on the duvet, cringing as the mattress gave a loud creak. She wondered how George ever got any sleep with such a bothersome noise.

She brought the coin up close to her mouth and moved her lips to speak the incantation. No sound came out. Sighing, she dropped her hands to her lap and hung her head. She hoped Harry and Ron were somewhere safe and not lying dead somewhere in a ditch with body parts splinched off.

Frowning, she brought the coin up once more and, in a shaky and worried voice, she said, "_Loqui per pecuniam_."

She waited a minute, but got no response. As she spoke the incantation a second time, her heart began to pound harder against her chest.

Nothing.

She tried several more times, panic building with each attempt. Eventually, she gave up after the tenth try.

She wouldn't allow it to be true. Harry and Ron were _not_ dead. They couldn't be. But if they were, it was Ron's stupid fault for making her stay behind. It was his idea.

She was certain that if she went with them, they wouldn't have been dead yet…or worse.

-oOo-

"Look who finally decided to wake up," Fred said, looking up from his morning coffee. He sat at the small table in the kitchen, which was now relatively clean.

Actually, the whole flat appeared to have gotten a bit of a makeover. Baffled by the transformation, she asked him about it as she sat down and accepted a piece of toast. Not feeling very hungry, she just picked at it, rolling the slightly burnt bread into tiny balls.

Fred shrugged his shoulders.

"It was George's idea," he said. "He thought you might be uncomfortable in a…filthy setting. Such a sap," he added with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

Clearing his throat, he took another sip of coffee before leaning towards her. He beckoned her to draw closer with his index finger and she did so.

"Don't tell him this, but I just shoved everything into the pantry and under the furniture."

Hermione snorted, but nodded her head. "Where is he?"

"Down at the shop," Fred replied with a frown. "Business has gone way down since the past few months. About once every few days, we have a Ministry official come in to make sure we haven't employed any Muggleborns. Verity still works with us, though. They tried to make us fire her, but we just gave her a Polyjuice potion. We couldn't prove she was at least Halfblood, so we gave her a new identity. If anyone asks, she's a cousin."

"What will happen if the Death Eaters come?"

Fred scowled. "That won't happen," he told her flatly.

"But what if it does?" she pressed.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it," he said. "George and I have a backup plan."

He studied her a while, noting how worried she looked.

"We've got things under control," he assured her. "We're ready for them if they do come. But they won't, so quit worrying, yeah?"

"What is your backup plan?"

"I said _don't_ worry about it." Fred shook his head. "Hate to say it, but it's probably best if you're left in the dark on this one."

"Yeah, a lot of people seem to think that about me," she muttered behind her toast.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she grumbled.

Sighing, he set down his coffee cup and offered her a tiny smile.

"Y'know, Harry and Ron are idiots for leaving you behind. But…maybe they have a point. You might be safer here with—"

At the sudden feeling of the coin vibrating in her pocket, she abruptly pushed her chair back, nearly pushing it over.

Fred narrowed his eyes.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

She froze.

"Err, toilet?" she said uncertainly.

Without waiting for him to respond, she ran into the toilet. She closed and locked the door, immediately casting a silencing charm.

-oOo-

"What else happened?" Hermione asked, gnawing on her bottom lip.

Harry sighed through the coin.

"_Nothing_."

Just by the sound of his voice, she could tell his scar was causing him pain.

"Poor Kreacher," Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"_Poor Kreacher_?" Harry repeated. "_We're lucky he's helping us, Hermione. Anyway, it took us _hours_ to get any sort of information from him. He knows I'm his new master, but he doesn't like accepting it. I just really hope he finds the locket for us. I don't care what happens to_—"

"Harry, stop," she interrupted sternly, not wanting to hear what he wanted to say. "What happened to him was a tragedy and yes, he may have been a little misguided in the past, but it sounds like he really wants to help you."

"_A _little_ misguided_?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Harry, just remember what I told you. It wouldn't hurt to be a little nicer to Kreacher. It _did_ work with Regulus, after all."

She could hear Harry sigh through the coin's connection.

"_Yeah, yeah_," he muttered. "_I'll give it a try. LIsten, I'm glad you're settled in with Fred and George. I've got to go, though. I'll keep you updated_."

Before Hermione could say any more, he cut off the connection. Frowning, she slid the coin back into her pocket, rubbing her hands tiredly over her face.

"Stay safe," she whispered to the void.

-oOo-

"About bloody time!" Fred exclaimed as soon as Hermione opened the door. He rushed passed her, slamming the door behind him.

"What's with him?" Hermione asked when she saw George sitting on the couch.

He shrugged as she sat down next to him.

"Too much coffee, probably." He eyed her suspiciously. "What were you doing in there, anyway?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

George lifted his eyebrows in amusement.

She snapped her head up to look at him, confusion etched on her face. When he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, she let out a groan.

"_George_!" she scolded, standing up abruptly.

He merely chuckled at her as she moved to sit in a chair on the other side of the room.

"Hey, you _were_ in there a long time, Granger," he informed her with a sly wink.

**A/N:** Posting the chapter a wee bit early since I'll be busy most of the weekend. Thanks for reading! Once again, I'll be sending out sneak peeks of the next chapter with my review replies. Also don't forget to follow me on Twitter: CallinectesFF.


	3. Coming

**Chapter 3: Coming**

It was the first day since Hermione came to stay at the twins' flat that she was able to have some time to herself. Usually, Fred and George insisted that one of them remain in her presence. They told her that it was because they didn't want her to feel lonely. But she knew different. She knew they didn't trust her. She knew they thought she would run off the first chance she got.

But they couldn't be any further from the truth. Why on earth would she go after Harry and Ron when they _clearly_ didn't want her? Why would she put herself through the torture of being told she was unwanted? She would have to be out of her mind to even consider it.

So when the front door finally opened and laughter instantly filled the air, she heaved a sigh of relief. The hours she spent alone in the flat above the twins' shop were maddening and, though she was loath to admit it, she missed the constant noise that Fred and George produced. Silence was just too unnatural in the Weasley twins' home.

It was intolerable.

"Oh, good," Fred said as he dumped his magenta work robes over the back of the couch. Their home was slowly starting to regain its usual mess. Slowly, though, and not too much so she wouldn't notice — or at least she pretended not to. "You're still here."

Hermione rolled her eyes and set her book down.

George turned his head in the direction of the kitchen and sniffed, looking very much like a dog who had just discovered the scent of his favourite treat hidden from his keen sight.

"What's that smell?" he asked, his feet taking him to the other room.

"I, err, cooked," she replied with a shrug. She pushed herself up off the couch and followed the twins into the kitchen.

'Cook' was a word she probably shouldn't have used to describe what she had just done. Actually, she had never really tested her cooking abilities — or lack thereof. She had always watched her family members prepare the meals, but never dabbled in the art herself. What she did today clearly couldn't be considered 'cooking.' It was more…mashing ingredients together and hoping for the best. She was excellent at brewing potions. Who knew that putting together a simple meal would be the complete opposite.

"Is it any good?" Fred asked as he opened the door to the oven where she was keeping the dish warm.

She sucked in a deep breath, a bit nervous about the turnout of her cooking.

"I hope so," she admitted with a nervous laugh.

"What is it?" Fred asked suspiciously. He poked at the slightly burnt pastry crust.

"Chicken and ham pie?"

At least she _hoped_ that's what she made.

George shot her an impressed look. "Mum's recipe?" he asked hopefully.

"Err, no. It's my great aunt Ruby's, actually. She left my mum a book of her recipes shortly before she passed away some time ago. I managed to salvage it before sending my parents away. I…I thought it might be of some use when I…"

She trailed off, not wanting to tell the twins that she would have used the cookbook while out on the hunt for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron. While she would have had no problem with telling anyone — perhaps it would have made her feel a little better — she still could not bring herself to betray their trust, even if they betrayed _her_. Harry and Ron still wanted to keep their mission a secret, and she couldn't say anything about their plans.

"When you…?" Fred pressed.

"Nothing," she replied quickly, forcing a smile as she retrieved a spatula from a drawer. Without another word, she served some of the pie to the twins and herself. Silently, the three of them sat down and began to eat.

After the first bite, Fred snuck a glance across the table at George, who shared the same nervous expression on his face. Both of them looked over at Hermione, who was wordlessly pushing the food around on her plate.

She had not yet taken a bite.

"This is, err, delicious," Fred said, forcing himself to swallow.

That was a huge understatement, but they didn't want her to know that her cooking was nowhere near as good as their mum's. The meat was overcooked, dry, and in bad need of seasoning. The crust was burnt in some areas and raw in others.

"Please be honest with me," Hermione said, not looking up at either of them. Her tone was quiet and emotionless.

"It really is delicious," George said, taking a giant bite of the pie.

He moaned in delight and rubbed his stomach, nodding his head enthusiastically. Then he swallowed, trying hard not to look too disgusted. She wasn't looking, so his attempt to pretend to like her food failed.

"No," she said softly, shaking her head. "I didn't mean the food. I meant…are you two _sure_ you're okay with keeping me here? I mean, you two are putting yourselves at such a great risk. If anything were to happen to you two—"

"Listen, Granger," Fred said flatly. He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Hermione with a (sort of) stern stare. She slowly dragged her eyes up to look at him. "If we weren't sure about this, we wouldn't have offered to take you in. We don't mind. Really."

"Besides," George added lightly with a mischievous grin. When Hermione glanced at him uneasily, he winked at her. "Think of all the _fun_ we'll have. With your brilliant brain and our amazing knack for inventions and pranks—"

"And obvious good looks," Fred added with an emphatic nod.

"We're a match made in heaven!" George finished with a broad grin.

She laughed uneasily, still unconvinced.

"Listen," George said, a little more seriously. "We may not agree with those idiots for leaving you behind the way they did, but we're more than happy to keep you safe."

"You're just as bad as them!" Hermione exclaimed, shooting hot, angry glares at the twins. "Keep me safe? You think that's what this is? You're _keeping me safe_? From what, exactly? Death Eaters that I can easily fight? The same ones I've _been_ fighting for years? Do you know why Harry and Ron _really_ left me behind?"

Fred and George shook their heads.

"Because I'm a _Mudblood_," she spat, now getting to her feet. "They left me behind because _I'm_ the one that's dangerous."

Fred and George spoke simultaneously.

"Hermione, that's not—"

"Don't call yourself—"

She wasn't listening. Before either of them could finish, she stormed out of the kitchen.

"Nice one, Fred," George said, shaking his head. He, too, left the room.

Fred sighed and leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"Fine," he muttered to himself. "I guess I'll clean up."

-oOo-

It had been over a week since Hermione heard anything from Harry and Ron — not that she was complaining very much. Though she wasn't really interested in holding a friendly conversation with either of them any time soon, she badly wanted to know that they were okay. Despite her being a…'liability' to them, they were still her best friends, however idiotic they may be at times, and she was still genuinely concerned about their wellbeing.

Even if they _were_ better off without her Muggleborn presence.

"Hey."

Startled, Hermione looked up to find George making his way towards her. He sat down next to her on the couch.

"Hi," she responded meekly. A slight brush spread across her cheeks. "Sorry about last night."

George waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. You're under a lot of stress. Hell, I'd be a mess if Harry and Ron left me like that," he added lightly, shooting her a wink.

This extracted a tiny smile from her.

"What are you talking about?" Fred asked as he walked into the room, shooting his brother an incredulous stare. "I can hear you sobbing every night, crying out their names about how much you miss them!"

"Shut up," George laughed, throwing a pillow at his twin.

Fred easily caught it and tossed it back. "All right there, Granger?" he asked, lifting inquiring eyebrows at her.

She sighed and smiled sadly at him before quickly averting her eyes to her lap. She picked at a loose thread of her Muggle jeans.

"Not really," she admitted with a shrug. "But I'll get over it."

"You better," George replied with a half-serious glare. "You're no fun when you're grumpy."

"Actually, she's not much fun to begin with," Fred corrected his brother. He turned to her next. "Don't think I haven't forgotten that you threatened to tell Mum about our products seventh year. _That_ was no fun."

"Because you were testing them on first years!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice going several octaves higher in her pretend outrage. She was smiling, through, for probably the first time since the twins 'kidnapped' her from the wedding.

"Bollocks," George snorted. "They didn't mind. They liked it."

"And it's not like we didn't pay them," Fred continued. George nodded earnestly.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "You _paid_ them, did you?"

"Yep," George grinned. "We paid them with the knowledge that they helped up become a huge success!"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing a pillow and hitting George with it.

Laughing, George made an attempt to retaliate. But before he could do so, a loud crash sounded from the shop downstairs. His eyes widened and he turned his head to stare at his brother.

"What was that?" he asked.

Hermione straightened. "Who's down in the shop?"

After a long, silent exchange between the twins, Fred sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"We closed up over an hour ago," he told her, his voice shaking somewhat with worry. "No one's supposed to be down there."

"Damn it," George groaned.

Hermione didn't have to ask what was going on. She already knew. Her worst fear since staying with the twins was finally happening. They were coming for them. For _her_.

"All right, Georgie," Fred said as he withdrew his wand from his back pocket. "You know what to do."

"Right," George replied as he stood and followed suit. "Hermione, you stay put. We shouldn't be too long."

"Too long for what?" Hermione asked, frowning. Her hand was already itching to get her wand.

"Just stay put, will you?" Fred asked with a hint of annoyance, lifting his eyebrows at her.

And then, without a word, Fred and George set about on another one of their dances. This time, instead of putting up wards, it was to destroy their home. Upholstery unravelled. Wallpaper ripped. Dishes smashed onto the floor. The twins moved in perfect harmony to bring their home crumbling down around them.

It wasn't until their madness was over when they heard heavy footsteps just outside the door.

"Hermione, get your bag!" George instructed. He didn't know what was in it, but he always saw it lying around somewhere. It had to be important.

She did so, rushing into his bedroom to retrieve it. Just as she came back into the living room, someone was pounding hard on the door. The knob jiggled violently as Fred and George moved to stand on either side of her. The hinges threatened to burst off the doorframe.

And just as the door was opening, Hermione felt herself being torn away from the scene, a hand reaching out to grab at them.

**A/N:** _Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review. And be sure to follow me on Twitter CallinectesFF for all my writing updates_


	4. Evesdrop

**Chapter 4: Evesdrop**

Hermione would have fallen as soon as her feet touched the ground had George not been there to steady her. She offered him a tiny smile of thanks before he let her go before joining his brother, leaving her to stand on her own. While she waited for her stomach to settle from the abrupt disapparition, she took in her surroundings.

They stood in a vast sea of green; the colour was all she could see for miles around them, save for the small stream that ran just a few metres away from them. The twins had taken her to a moor — where exactly, she could not tell. She doubted Fred and George would let her in on their secret location.

It didn't look like the sort of place _she_ would hide…not out in the open, anyway.

An uneasy feeling sank in and she wrapped her arms around herself. She turned to watch as the twins set up camp: Fred erected the tent while George paced around them in a large circle, creating strong protective barriers. At least they were the ones _she_ would have used. Were Harry and Ron smart enough to do the same?

She waited until they were done before she followed them inside the tent.

The twins were silent. Fred put water up for tea while George broke out a set of Wizard's Chess at the small coffee table in the centre of the sitting room. At a loss of what to do, she sat down in a plush armchair, waiting for Fred to join them with tea.

As soon as Fred sat down on the floor across from his brother, Hermione spoke up.

"Where are we?" she asked, her tone accusatory.

Slowly, Fred looked up at her, an unamused expression on his face.

"We're safe," he informed her flatly. "That's all you need to know."

George looked up at her and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry, Hermione. The Death Eaters aren't smart enough to find us here. We're perfectly well hidden."

But Hermione was not convinced. She nervously gnawed on her bottom lip, going through all the possible ways she and the twins would surely be murdered in her sleep. Each scenario was bloodier than the last. Were George's barriers strong enough to safeguard them?

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly. "This place doesn't seem…concealing enough."

"Trust us, Granger," Fred said. He looked unimpressed at her worry. "They won't find us here. Besides, George's barriers are excellent. Better than mine, even."

"I hope so," Hermione muttered, drawing her knees up to her chest. "So…where are we?"

"Granger," Fred growled, slamming his tea cup down with such force, the hot liquid sloshed around. He winced when it burned his hand. "For the last time, we _can't tell you_, so drop it."

"If it helps," George said a bit more kindly, shooting his brother a glare, "we used to come here as kids a lot. We know all the best hiding places here. We know where people go and won't go, Muggle or not. This is about as secluded as we'll get for a while." He offered Hermione a warm smile. "We'll keep moving. Promise."

Hermione sighed and took a sip of her tea. Leaning back, she decided she was fighting a losing battle. Fred and George were never going to let her in on their secrets. It would be hard, but it would be better if she just went along for the ride.

Hermione's hand idly moved to the pocket of her jeans, feeling the coin she kept hidden there. She hadn't felt it vibrate in a while, indicating that either of her so-called friends wanted to talk to her. Granted, she hadn't tried talking to them, either, but that didn't matter. _She_ wasn't the one who abandoned them. That was all their doing. Frowning, she slowly got to her feet, keeping her eyes trained on Fred and George. Neither of them looked up at her. She walked backwards towards her room, still watching the twins. Still, they did not look up at her. Satisfied that they would not ask her what she was doing, she went into her room and sealed the flap, setting up a silencing charm.

Maybe this time they would answer her call.

-oOo-

Unsuccessful, Hermione emerged from her room and wandered into the living room. There, she found George sifting leafing a magazine while Fred tinkered away on a wireless radio. She sat down on the couch next to Fred. Still, neither twin looked at her.

Her thoughts moved back to Harry and Ron. Her constant worry was magnified from their lack of response. Were they still alive? Had they managed to get captured? Were they now enduring excruciating amounts of torture?

This was her fault. She should never have agreed to stay behind. She could have — she _should_ have — fought harder. Followed them. Force them to take her with them. She should have made them see sense. They were, after all, not very bright.

The sound of wood hitting metal tore her away from her thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred tapping his wand against the wireless. He cleared his throat and turned a dial. She winced when the loud static reached her ears; George gave a disapproving grunt.

"…_so be careful out there. Death Eaters _will_ come knocking on your door without warning. Gringotts is no longer safe, so get your money while you can…or _if_ you can_..."

Hermione frowned at the wireless as the voice — a familiar voice — continued to deal out warnings to his listeners.

"Is that…?" she asked, not quite sure what to say or think.

"Lee?" Fred finished, his mouth curving into a small grin. "Yeah."

"What is this?" she asked, her brow knitting together.

"Potterwatch," George replied from his spot on the floor. Hermione turned to look at him. "Still pretty new and there's still a lot of bugs to fix, but so far so good."

"Potterwatch?"

Fred made a loud shushing sound and brought the wireless to his ear so he could hear the broadcast better.

"Yeah," George said a little more quietly. He rose from the floor and sat down next to Hermione. "They're pretty much just exposing the truth about You-Know-Who and his cronies."

"They?" Hermione asked, nodding towards the wireless.

"Lee's the host," George explained. "Those who are in the Order and DA supply him with all sorts of information. Sometimes Kingsley and Remus will go on and talk, too."

Hermione felt something in her heart twist. Kingsley. Remus. She was glad at least they were still alive. She had to know, though…did Potterwatch know anything about Harry and Ron's whereabouts?

When she asked, George frowned.

"No, can't say we've heard anything about them," he said. "Hope they're okay."

"…_continue to close in Diagon Alley,_" Lee continued. "_It would be advisable to close down before the Death Eaters come and force you to do it. Our favourite shop owners have abandoned ship. No word on how they're doing…_"

"Bollocks," Fred cursed under his breath. He placed the wireless on his lap and tapped his wand to it again. "Lemondrop," he stated clearly.

"_Now, onto_—"

"River?" Fred shouted into the wireless.

"_Hello? Hello?_"

"River, this is Rodent."

_"Rodent! You're alive! You and the other Rodent are well, then?_"

Fred chuckled and winked at his brother. "Yeah, we're fine. Had a bit of a run-in with the Death Eaters. We're safe and well hidden, though. For now, anyway."

"_Good, good. Any advice on those who are out on the run or planning on jumping ship?_" Lee wondered.

"Yeah," Fred replied. "Keep moving. _Always_ keep moving. Staying in one spot for more than two or three days is not advisable. And don't be afraid to overdo the barrier spells." He glanced over at George and lifted his eyebrows.

"_Excellent, Rodent. How's your little worm problem going?_"

"The worm is safe and sound," Fred replied, casting a sidelong glance in Hermione's direction.

"_Very good!_" Lee exclaimed before proceeding to give more safety precautions to anyone who was listening.

"Worm problem?" Hermione asked curiously.

George grinned. "Fred's …_ego_," he explained with a waggle of his eyebrows. At Hermione's confused expression, he gestured at his crotch region.

She shot George an unimpressed look. "Gross," she said flatly and left the room.

-oOo-

Hermione pushed her uneaten porridge around the bowl, her head rested heavily in her hand. She was well aware of the twins staring at her as she once again refused to eat, but this time she didn't care. She was tired of the judgmental looks she got from Fred and George whenever she did something that wasn't anywhere near normal behaviour.

It had been nearly a week since she heard from Harry and Ron and she was beyond worried. She was _scared_. She was scared for their mission to destroy the Horcruxes…scared for their lives. Sometimes it didn't matter how angry she was at them for leaving her. Every moment she didn't hear from them was another scenario about their bloody massacres playing torturously in her mind.

It was in these moments that she was the quietest and the most distant.

Over the week, she tried contacting them, but each attempt proved futile. They would not answer her calls, and this caused her worry to deepen. She hadn't slept or eaten in days.

The twins were worried about her, but they never let it show. Instead, they tried to engage her in mindless activities to draw her mind away from the fact that her friends left her and, though none of them wanted to admit it, could be dead. They also couldn't bring themselves to bring up the fact that not hearing anything about them could be a good thing. It meant Voldemort hadn't won. It meant hope was not lost. It meant that _had_ to be alive.

No news was good news, and yet Fred and George couldn't remind her of this. It would only make her come up with new scenarios that involved Voldemort not letting out that he had won.

No, keeping quiet about possibility and hope was probably a good thing.

"It's pretty warm," Fred commented idly.

He looked over at George, who pushed around his own porridge. Hermione's foul mood was rather contagious. Fred cleared his throat loudly, startling George out of his deep thoughts. He lifted his eyebrows at his distracted brother, jerking his head towards their silent tent-mate.

"Oh yeah," George said, nodding his head enthusiastically. "Hottest it's been in a while. Fancy a swim, Hermione?"

He glanced over at her, but she ignored him. The grainy volcano she made was rather impressive, but it did not provide him with an answer.

"Hermione?" he tried again. "Want to go swimming after breakfast?"

She sighed, still ignoring him.

Fred frowned. "Hermione?"

Hermione finally seemed to break from her thoughts. Looking dazed, she looked up at him and shook her head, clearing it.

"I'm sorry?" she said distractedly.

Fred and George exchanged concerned glances.

"D'you fancy a swim?" the latter asked. "It's pretty hot out and we were thinking of doing the same. There's a secluded lake—"

"No, thanks," Hermione cut him off glumly. "I think I just want to be left alone today, if you don't mind."

"Err, yeah, okay," Fred said, knitting his brow together. "Let us know if you change your mind."

"Yeah," she replied emptily as she got to her feet. After smiling distractedly at the twins, she left to go to her room.

-oOo-

Hermione emerged from her room some hours later to the sound of Fred and George arguing. It was a rare sound, and she was intrigued to find out what their disagreement was about. She hid just out of sight from where they stood in the sitting room.

"—brought her with us!" Fred growled.

"Fred, stop," George pleaded. "This is stupid. You _know_ she can take care of herself. D'you really doubt her ability? She's a smart witch."

Fred vehemently shook his head. "No, of course I don't. It's just…it's dangerous and she could be dead by now. Or worse. What if they figured out she's Muggleborn and found her already?"

"Verity is fine. Trust me."

"We should've brought her with us, George. What if they capture and torture her?"

"It's not like she'll tell them where we are," George said reasonably. "That's why we didn't tell her where we were going. She wasn't even aware we were hiding Hermione in our flat."

"You know she would've kept it a secret," Fred said evenly.

"I know. We did the smart thing. She knows exactly where she has to go and what to do. She'll be perfectly safe where she's going."

"I _still_ think she should've come with us."

"Yeah, so you two could shag all day?" George scrunched up his face. "Nooo thank you."

Fred laughed and gave his brother a light shove. "It wouldn't have been _all_ day. We _would_ need to eat. And then we'd go at it all night."

Shaking his head, George rolled his eyes. "You know four would've been too many to hide. Verity will be _fine_, Fred. You can ask her to marry you when the war is over."

Fred let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, maybe." He sighed and turned towards where Hermione was hiding. "You can come out now," he advised her.

Hermione emerged from the shadows, an embarrassed look on her face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she said shakily.

"Nah, it's fine," Fred said with a shrug. "It's good you're here anyway. We need to go again. I'll give you a few minutes to pack."

"No need," she said, offering him a ghost of a smile. "I never really unpacked."

"Righto," George said as they walked out of the tent. He and Fred quickly took it down and packed it up. Then, standing on either side of Hermione, the three of them disapparated away into the night.

**A/N: **_Thanks for reading! Once again, I'll be sending sneak peeks of the next chapter along with my review replies. Also don't forget to follow me on Twitter CallinectesFF for all my writing updates_


	5. Unwanted

**Chapter 5: Unwanted**

Hermione was restless. Instead of spending time with the twins like she should have, she kept herself hold up in her room, waiting for Harry and Ron to contact her. She waited for them to let her know that everything was okay. To let her know that they were alive. Not knowing was torture.

She wasn't certain exactly how many hours she wasted just lying on her bed, waiting for the coin to vibrate. She tried various positions while she waited: head hanging off the edge, on her side, on her stomach. She even tried standing on her head, but she ended up failing with each attempt.

Thank Merlin for silencing charms, or else Fred and George would have assumed she was trying to kill herself with all the frustrated groans she let out. She didn't even want to think about what was going on in their heads when they took notice she was spending entirely way too much time in her room. Did they think she escaped?

She would if she could. She didn't even know where Harry and Ron were, so even if she wanted, she wouldn't be able to find them. She hoped they were safe and sound. Had they managed to find secure hiding places? Hopefully, they were able to feed themselves well enough. Surely they weren't as lucky as she and the twins were. They had been smart enough, at least, to stuff the tent enough food to last the three of them for nearly a year.

She really hoped they wouldn't be on the run _that_ long. She wanted this war to end _soon_.

With a heavy sigh, she turned over from her back to her side, idly running her fingers over the coin's cool metal. She hated doing nothing as she waited hopelessly for their call. She had to do _something_. She had made identical copies of the beaded bags she supplied Harry and Ron with. She put the exact same items in each bag. Whatever items they had, so did she. And that included the books.

She wasn't sure why she didn't think of this earlier. Instead of moping about, she could do research. She could still help them, even if they were miles apart. There had to be something in the books she packed about what items Voldemort had used as Horcruxes. Even if Harry and Ron were going through the books, they would undoubtedly miss important facts. Three heads _had_ to be better than two. Or none, if they weren't doing their own research.

Harry wasn't stupid enough to let either of them sit around and do nothing. At least Harry had _some_ sense.

And then it happened. Before she even had a chance to get up and pull out her books, the coin began to vibrate. She smiled gleefully at it, excited that they finally wanted to talk to her. It was childish, really, to be this happy to hear from them, but she didn't care. Harry and Ron finally _needed_ her. They were wrong when they said they didn't.

Folding her legs beneath her, she sat up and held the coin to her mouth before speaking the incantation to answer their call.

"Harry?" she greeted, trying to at least contain her excitement a little.

"_It's Ron_."

She hesitated. It would have been a lie if she told herself she wasn't disappointed to hear his voice. He _was_ the one who told her that they wanted to leave her behind. _He_ was the one who decided to abandon her.

Maybe he was calling to tell her how sorry he was and that he and Harry had finally come to their senses and wanted her to join them.

"Hi, Ron," she greeted, forcing herself to sound happy to hear him. "How are you?"

Ron sighed through the coin and waited a moment before answering.

"_Listen, Hermione_."

She frowned, not liking his serious tone. This could not be good.

"_I know you must be angry with us for leaving you behind_," he continued.

She lifted her eyebrows. "Well, that's an understatement," she admitted.

At least now he was being honest. But she couldn't deny the fact that her level of anger had lifted somewhat now that Ron had finally contacted her. Maybe he really _was_ going to apologize for his and Harry's actions. She smiled at the coin in anticipation, waiting for him to speak the words she wanted to hear most.

Just four words: I'm sorry. Join us.

"_But we did the right thing_," he went on.

Oh. Those were _not_ the words she wanted to hear. Nowhere close. Her heart sank and she could barely comprehend what he said next.

"_It would be dangerous for you to be out here with us_."

She blinked back stubborn tears, despite knowing that Ron would never see them. Clearing her throat, she composed herself.

"And it's not dangerous for you?" she retorted, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky through the coin as it did in her head.

"_It's different for you. You know that_."

"Ron, don't be stupid. Harry's the one they really want. They couldn't care less about you are me. It's more dangerous for him! Where are you two, anyway?"

She knew he would never tell her, but it was worth a shot anyway.

"_That doesn't matter_," he told her vaguely. "_The point is, we don't need you. We never did. You'll just get in the way like you always do_."

Hermione brought a hand up to her face in distress as she willed herself not to cry. Why was he saying these mean things?

"Like I always do?" she repeated, choking back a sob. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"_Well, for starters, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have gotten in trouble for that troll first year. If you hadn't gotten yourself petrified second year, we would've known what You-Know-Who wanted earlier._"

Ron's words knocked the breath out of her lungs and it took her a few seconds to compose herself. They weren't valid points and they both knew it, but that didn't make the words hurt any less.

"If it wasn't for _me_, you two probably wouldn't be alive right now. Who was the one who saved _your_ sorry arses every time you got in trouble? As for the troll, you wouldn't have known how to knock it out if it weren't for me. And second year? I left you the answer as to how you had to figure it out. You two were lucky you did."

She wasn't sure if her retort was helping or hurting her defense, but she felt it needed to be said anyway. His words stung like the nettles growing in her parents' garden.

"_Look, I don't know if you're planning anything, but don't come looking for us_," he advised her flatly. "_You're not welcome. You're not wanted. We don't need your help. You're not to come looking for us. We don't…Hermione, we don't want you anymore_."

Hermione froze, a sudden thought dawning on her. What if this wasn't really Ron speaking? What if Death Eaters had caught Harry and Ron and they Imperiused them, forcing them to contact her to find out where she was hiding.

No, that couldn't be right. Because if that was the case, 'Ron' would have begged her for forgiveness and asked her to come back to them. This was Ron telling her the complete opposite. This was the real Ron and he did not want her. He wanted nothing to do with her.

"Ron, you don't mean that," she choked.

"_I do_," he said emotionlessly. "_I wish we'd never become friends_."

And with that, he closed the connection.

At least he was being honest.

-oOo-

Days passed since Ron told her she was no longer wanted. She wasn't sure if they were still alive, and to be quite honest, she didn't care anymore. The twins saw how upset she was, with her red, puffy eyes and her blotchy face. She could't bring herself to tell them what was wrong, no matter how many times they asked. If she did, she risked slipping about the mission. While the twins may not have cared, her former friends made her promise not to tell a soul.

A promise was a promise, no matter what.

She tried to spend more time with the twins in an attempt to clear her mind of the argument she had with Ron. But her mind was so thickly laden with thoughts of being unwanted that she couldn't help but hide in her room.

Only this time, instead of submerging herself in her research, she drowned in tears.

"Hermione?"

Startled, she shuddered for a second before focusing her gaze on George, who was handing her a biscuit. She accepted it graciously and nibbled on a corner before setting it down on the side table.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders. Off to the side, where he was listening to the wirelessly closely, Fred looked up and frowned slightly at Hermione.

"I'm okay, I guess," she lied.

"Bollocks," George said, sitting down next to her. "we know you've been crying in your room pretty much every day since we left our flat. If you want someone to talk to, we're here for you. We're more than happy to lend an ear."

"And that's all George can offer you, unfortunately," Fred said, tugging on one of his ears.

George rubbed the hole where his ear used to be. "Point is," he told her, "we're here for you if you need someone to talk to."

"Thanks," she replied glumly. "But I think I can manage on my own."

"Good," Fred said, pushing the wireless away. He got to his feet and pocketed his wand. "We need to get out of here. Sounds like Death Eater activity is heavy down here."

"Yeah," George agreed as he got to his feet. "It's feeling a bit warm here anyway."

-oOo-

Fred, George, and Hermione apparated to a thick forest. Finally, some cover. She had grown uneasy in the openness of the moors. If they spent one more day there, she would have been sorely tempted to disapparate them away to somewhere that was safer.

This was definitely an improvement.

The place felt familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. After setting up, while the twins went inside the tent, she decided to stay out in the safe confines of the protective barriers to take in her surroundings.

While the woods were thick, there was a small lake nearby. She and Fred included it within their barriers since he and George had been talking about swimming for so long. A thick blanket of ferns covered the forest floor, emitting muggy moisture into the air, making it thick.

It smelled green and earthy here. She felt like she was miles away from all the evil in the world.

For all she knew, there could be a Death Eater camp right next to theirs. She shuddered at the thought of it.

As she swept her gaze across the forest floor one more time, she finally realised where they were. They were in the Forest of Dean. She smiled for what felt like the first time in years. She finally felt safe. She felt…home.

This was a place where good things happened.

Just when she was beginning to feel comfortable, two sets of hands grabbed her. She let out a squeal, holding onto her two captors tightly. The twins laughed as they rushed her towards the lake.

"No!" she shouted, kicking her legs violently.

Her uncontrollable laugh betrayed the evil thoughts she had about the twins as they unceremoniously dumped her in the water. It was cool from the shade of the nearby trees.

She rushed to the surface, shivering and gasping for air. She set her gaze on the still laughing twins, a murderous look in her eyes. She emerged from the lake with every intention of paying them back when the coin she kept in her pocket suddenly vibrated.

Her face quickly fell into confusion before she quickly tore off towards the tent, leaving behind a set of very baffled twins.

She tied the flap to her room securely and set up a double layer of silencing charms. When she answered the call, every ounce of her hoped it was Ron telling her how sorry he was and that he didn't mean those things. She wasn't ready to accept his apology if he really was going to make one, but it didn't mean she didn't want to hear it.

Her heart sank at what really happened.

"_Hermione, I need your help._"

She frowned at how frantic and terrified he sounded. She wasn't sure she had ever heard him so scared before.

"Harry, what is it?"

"_It's Ron,_" he gasped. He sounded out of breath, as though he had just finished sprinting five miles. "_He's hurt. H-he's hurt really bad._"

So much for this being a place where good things happen.


	6. Splinch

**Chapter 6: Splinch**

**A/N:** _SO sorry I didn't update Sunday. Life has been kicking my ass lately/the universe hates me right now and I worked all weekend. Thanks for being so patient and, as always, thanks for reading! I'll be sending out sneak peeks along with my review replies._

* * *

"Harry? _Harry_," she hissed, trying to sift through the words that tumbled through the coin. She couldn't make sense of anything he said, but the few words she managed to pick up, she did not like. "Harry, stop panicking and tell me what happened."

"_H-his arm_," Harry stammered. "_I-it's — oh God, there's so much blood, Hermione. T-too much blood_!"

She felt her chest twist with a mixture of fear and dread. Apparition was done using precision and determination. It was done correctly only if the person apparating was fully concentrating on his or her destination without any distraction. Splinching occurred when the mind was not completely focused.

So what had Ron so distracted that he splinched himself when he and Harry disapparated? Where were they escaping from? Were they in trouble? Did someone find them?

"Harry," she attempted calmly, but her voice cracked too much, so she tried again. "Harry, what happened?"

"_We were escaping from the Ministry," Harry choked out. " His arm's not completely torn off, but…Hermione, I don't know what to do. I'm afraid he's going to bleed out. Help me!_"

Hermione felt the heat from her face drain as she took in his words. Ministry? What were they doing there? Didn't they know how dangerous it was there? Unless…

"_HERMIONE!_"

"Yes, sorry, I'm here," she mumbled, thinking quickly. She knew what had to be done. She just hoped Harry's hands weren't shaking too much to do it. "Harry, I packed some Essence of Dittany in the bag."

"_The bag. Right_," he said shakily.

Hermione waited wordlessly while he searched for the Dittany. A minute later, she decided to check on the status of his search.

"Harry?"

"_I-I don't think it's here, Hermione. A-are you sure you p-packed it? I can't find it. Hermione, he's bleeding a lot. It's really bad_."

"Use your wand, Harry!" she told him quickly, groaning inwardly. When was he going to learn that he's a wizard?

"_Wand_," he breathed as it sunk in. She decided to let it slide; he was under a lot of stress. "_Right. _Accio Dittany!" he shouted, letting out a triumphant shout a second later. "_What now?_"

"Unstopper it and apply generously to the wound," she instructed, starting to feel a little sick. "How's he looking, Harry?"

"_Really pale. He—I think he's unconscious. Yes…he is._"

"Good," she replied. That meant he wasn't in distress and couldn't feel the pain.

Seconds later, he let out a breathy laugh.

"_Hermione, his wound is clearing up! It's as though he never splinched in the first place. He's lost a lot of blood, though. Is there anything I can do about that?_"

Hermione frowned, thinking for a moment.

"I know of some spells," she said, "but I'm not sure it would be wise to use them. I'm not that good at them, myself. Even if I was, I wouldn't risk doing them on him if he lost too much blood. Can you get him safely in the tent?"

"_Yeah, I think so. I need to get it set up, first,_" he replied. "_Can you give me a few minutes?_"

"Yeah. I need to go do something while you set up camp, anyway. Don't forget your protective barriers," she instructed, earning a light chuckle from him. She knew he was rolling his eyes at her bossiness.

"_Where are you going?_" he asked.

"There's just something I need to do," she said vaguely. She felt her whole body shaking, and when she touched her hand to her face, it felt cold and clammy. It felt as though her stomach was twisting in angry, painful knots.

"_Will you be back?_"

She waited a beat before responding.

"Yes."

After quickly closing the connection, she hid the coin under her duvet. Practically throwing herself from her bed, she all but tore apart the ties that secured the flap to her room, the silencing charms instantly melting away. She ran from the room, flying past Fred and George, who were in the sitting room. They simultaneously stood and called after her.

She exited the tent in a hurry, stopping only a few feet from the entrance. The twins were close behind her. Almost as soon as she got outside, she doubled over and expelled all the ill feelings she had just experienced. She was vaguely aware of someone pulling back her hair while she wretched a second time, half sobbing as she did so.

Waves of emotions crashed over her.

She placed her hands on her knees to steady herself. Harry and Ron needed her now more than ever. How could they tell her otherwise?

"Hermione?" George said from behind her.

When she was certain she wasn't going to be sick anymore, she straightened. Wordlessly, she turned around and wrapped her arms around George. Taken aback, he hesitated before returning the embrace. She sobbed once into his shirt before falling silent.

"Hermione?" George said again, awkwardly rubbing gentle circles along the expanse of her back. "Are you all right?"

She sniffled into the soft fabric of his shirt, nodding her head.

"I think so," she replied, her voice muffled against his chest.

He frowned, knowing she was lying. She was still clearly very distraught over Harry and Ron abandoning her. Now she was worrying about them to the point of being physically sick. It was unhealthy and she was definitely _not_ all right.

He realised that she felt the need to appear strong, but what she needed most was companionship. She shouldn't have been holed up in her room all day. No doubt she was crying over them the whole time she was in there. He could always tell because no matter what charm she used to clean herself up, her face was still blotchy and her eyes were always red.

She peeled herself away from him, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Looking down at the ground, she sighed and straightened her clothes.

"I'm fine, really," she lied, forcing a smile. "I think I'm going to lie down for a bit."

"Are you sure?" he asked, not sure if her being alone was such a good idea.

"Yes, I'm sure," she replied. "I'm really tired."

"D'you want some company?" he offered. He cringed when she shot him a confused look. The offer was clearly too much.

"I—what?" she asked. "No, I just want to be alone."

"You're positive? I mean, you probably shouldn't be—"

"_Please_, George," she pleaded, frowning. She couldn't tell him what she was really going to do: talk to Harry to make sure he and Ron were okay. The twins couldn't know what she was _really_ doing in her room.

"I just want to lie down for a while," she said. "My stomach hurts."

"Okay," George said, giving up. It was a lost cause and he knew it. Hermione was a strong willed witch and it was useless denying her of what she wanted. "We'll call you when dinner's ready."

-oOo-

"Harry, you _do_ realise how dangerous that was, right?" she chastised through the coin.

How could he and Ron have been so pigheaded to attempt something as risky as breaking into the Ministry? They were lucky to have gotten out alive…barely. Now Ron was badly injured and who knew how long it would take for him to fully recover? Splinching was not a simple injury to heal.

Harry chuckled. "_Yeah, but we wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you_."

Her brows knitted together in confusion and she tilted her head to the side. How did _she_ help? She didn't even know he and Ron were going to the Ministry until just a few minutes ago when he told her all about it.

She didn't even know they were in London.

"_If you hadn't left vials of unfinished Polyjuice potion in the bag you gave us, we wouldn't have been able to sneak into the Ministry to get the locket. All we had to do was add the hairs we needed._"

She frowned. She had intended for the potion to be used in emergencies only, like if they were being chased by Death Eaters. The potion was not to be used for fools' errands that involved sneaking into a heavily guarded Ministry to steal a Horcrux that hung around the neck of one of the most dangerous witches out there. Death Eaters and their cronies were everywhere. They could have been killed — or worse. Voldemort could have gotten his slimy hands on Harry and…

She shuddered and stopped herself before going there.

"Harry, I think the three of us need to discuss what you and Ron are doing _before_ you do it. Not after," she said flatly, clearly annoyed by the events' results.

She wasn't sure if she would have liked the idea of going into the Ministry to get the locket, Polyjuice or no, had she been there. It was very risky and she didn't want Harry and Ron doing these things without talking about them with her first.

"_Hermione, we're fine,_" Harry replied evenly. "_I know it was a risky thing to do, but we made it out alive _with_ the Horcrux. That's the important thing: that we get all the Horcruxes and destroy them._"

"Not if it's going to risk your lives!" she retorted shrilly.

She knew she shouldn't have been defending Ron, even though she knew they were wrong in their approach to get the locket. But this was mental. What if Harry had been injured instead? What if Harry _died_ while on the search to destroy the Horcruxes?

They needed her. Hermione knew it, and she only wished they would realise it. The sooner they did, the sooner she could join them and help them. Three heads were far better than two.

Although they betrayed her, she missed them and wanted to join them.

She was about to tell him that she missed him when he cut her off mid-sentence.

"_Look, we all knew the risks before going into this. We all knew there would be the possibility of injury or death. It's the price we have to pay if we're going to do this._"

"I know, Harry, it's just—"

"_I have to go,_" he told her flatly. "_Ron's waking up._"

"I—"

Harry closed the connection before she could even formulate a coherent thought. Angered by Harry's uncaring attitude and the possibility that she may never see either of her best friends again, she threw the coin across the room, watching as it landed on her desk with a loud metallic clunk.

She couldn't stay there anymore. She had to leave. In a haste, she undid the spells on her room and untied the flap, nearly ripping the canvas. Storming from her room, she sped out of the tent. She was about to pass through George's protective barriers when she felt two sets of hands grip her arms, preventing her departure.

Letting out a frustrated groan, she turned sharply on her heel to face the twins, shooting both of them dark, angry glares.

"What?" she growled.

The twins shared uneasy glances, but stood their ground.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Fred demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You can't leave," George added. His voice was somewhat kinder than his brother's, but his face was hard with a mixture of confusion and frustration. "It's too dangerous out there."

"What do you care?" she snapped, kicking angrily at the dirt. "You don't _have_ to babysit me. You're not getting anything out of this. Why are you even doing it?"

"Hermione, we—"

"Stop," she pleaded, eyes welling up with tears. "I just want to be left alone right now."

"Where are you going?" Fred asked again.

"I need some air," she said, backing up from the twins. "I'm going for a walk," she muttered.

Before either of the twins could stop her, she turned and stepped through the barrier and into the night.

"She's coming back, right?" George asked, not sure what to think of what just happened. When Fred didn't respond, he turned to his brother. "Isn't she?"

Fred's eyes were wide with a conglomerate of fear and confusion. "I don't know, Georgie. I don't know."


	7. Gone

**Chapter 7: Gone**

There was always a thread loose in George's tangled web of protection spells whenever it was his turn to set up the barrier around their camp. His spells were messy and disorganised, a complete opposite of what she normally did. The twins always insisted on taking turns on the chores. She would have objected and insisted on always being the one who set up the barriers, but they never had a single intrusion. There hadn't even been any signs of life near their camps.

Her mouth curved into a relieved smile when she saw the thread; it always seemed to be in the same location: the northeast corner of their camp.

Just like now, the thread was never obvious, so she knew it would be improbable to find their camp. It helped that it was dark now, but she still had to be careful. She didn't attempt to reach for the thread before looking over her shoulder, squinting to see into the depths of the darkness that surrounded her.

Satisfied that there was no one around, she pulled out her wand and used it to tug on the thread. She knew she would never be able to pull it with her bare fingers. She tried that the first time she saw the thread and only made George's mess even worse. After fixing the imperfection, she had chastised him for being so careless.

His only response was to grin at her and tell her she worried too much.

Perhaps he was right. Maybe all she needed to do was let go and let things happen the way they were supposed to. She couldn't control everything and the sooner the learned that lesson, the better. But until then, she was going to continue to worry. After all, Harry and Ron were still out there on their own.

At least she knew they were still alive…barely.

When the tear in the barrier was large enough, she slid through, wincing when George's spells tingled against her skin. It wasn't painful or unpleasant, but it definitely gave her an eerie feeling when magic rubbed against her skin the way the barrier's did.

Quickly, in case she missed seeing anyone following her, she fixed the hole she created in the barrier, making sure to tuck in George's thread. The last thing she wanted was to track in unwanted company.

She walked as silently as the dead leaves beneath her boots would allow, cringing whenever they crunched. She heard the them inside the tent, but as soon as she was a few metres from the opening, their voices fell silent. She froze, her knuckles turning white from gripping her wand too hard in fear.

What if they thought _she_ was an intruder? They would most certainly hex first and ask questions later. She debated whether or not she should announce her presence, but before she could form any sort of decision, they pounced on her.

Someone pinned her forcefully to the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. In a swift, solid motion, the man straddled her hips and pushed her hands to the ground above her head. She winced when her hair painfully caught in his tight grip.

A whimper escaped her throat when she felt his wand pressing into her neck.

"What the _bloody_ hell d'you think you're doing, Hermione?" he growled. Her attacker — Fred — tossed his wand aside, as though he was afraid his anger alone would cast an unwanted spell on her.

"Hello to you, too," she gasped, her lungs slowly filling with air again.

"What are you doing back?" asked George, who was standing behind his brother. "We thought you'd left us for good. Thought you went to find them," he added softly.

Hermione squirmed beneath Fred and groaned. "No," she sniffed indignantly. "They clearly don't want me, remember? Besides, I have no idea where they are."

That was not a lie. She knew where they were _before_ the MInistry incident, but not now. She had no idea where Harry might have apparated them to. Hopefully it was somewhere safe.

"Well, we're glad you're back," Fred said as he lifted himself off her. He reached a hand out to help her up, which she gratefully accepted.

"It's good to be back," she said with an uncertain smile.

As soon as she got to her feet, George enveloped her in a tight embrace, inhaling as he squeezed her. She let out a tiny gasp before returning the unexpected hug. She wasn't aware that either of the twins were excited to see her back, even if Fred was loath to express it.

It wasn't like she was around them much.

"You're back just in time," Fred said when George let her go.

"For what?" she asked, furrowing her brow in mild confusion. What were they planning this time?

"Are you sure we should do it now?" George asked, scratching his head.

"Might as well," his brother answered. "It's now or never."

"Yeah, but I don't think the timing is right. She might…run off again."

"I won't—" Hermione tried to interject, but Fred cut her off, completely ignoring her.

"Which is why we _need_ to do this now," he said.

"It might be too dangerous," George reminded him.

Fred crinkled his face. "I think it would be more dangerous if we _don't_ do this."

"Do _what_?" Hermione asked.

The twins exchanged secretive glances before escorting her inside the tent.

"It's better if we show you," Fred said solemnly.

-oOo-

Hermione stared at the twins in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," she said, a baffled expression etched on her face. "You want me to _what_?"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Fred sighed. "It'll be good for you. It'll put us all at ease."

"I don't think it's such a good idea," she said uncertainly, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

George exhaled slowly, grimacing and shaking his head. "Trust us: it'll be good for _all_ of us if you just agree. It won't hurt you, y'know. It'll hurt us if you _don't_. I think I may've lost some weight, thanks to you."

He put his hands to his stomach and sighed longingly, as though he had lost something very precious.

"My cooking is fine," she stated crossly, folding her arms defiantly over her chest.

"Hermione, we're not saying you're a terrible cook," Fred reminded her. "We're just saying…we'd like it if you cooked something…edible for once."

"Nothing I cook is inedible," she replied glumly. Her cheeks tinged pink with slight embarrassment, but she refused to give in. She knew they were probably right, but there was not time for silliness. They had to be diligent whilst out on the run.

"Hermione, if you don't let me teach you how to cook, _we'll_ leave you behind," Fred growled, handing her the spatula he had been holding.

Hermione's eyes went wide. She didn't believe him, but his words still stung.

"Oh, he didn't mean it," George said kindly. "The leaving you bit, at least. But we _were_ serious when we said your cooking isn't up to par. It really would be nice if we could eat when it's your turn to cook."

She yanked the spatula from Fred's hand and turned sharply to the pan of vegetables on the burner.

"Fine," she grumbled. "Teach me to cook."

Fred winked at his brother and began her first cooking lesson.

-oOo-

She didn't realise how good a cook Fred was until now. He was so good, in fact, that his lessons even improved her _skills_, which she had to admit were nonexistent. They had just finished another cooking lesson and were now in the sitting room, enjoying the various smells that floated throughout the tent.

She had been so busy worrying about Harry and Ron, that she didn't even see everything the twins were doing to ensure her safety. Everything went by in a blur over the past few months during her stay with Fred and George that she had been missing out on their company.

She had forgotten how much fun the twins could be, even if she rarely wanted to admit it.

But now that she came to realise that Harry and Ron definitely didn't want her anymore, the heavy weight on her heart had lifted somewhat. She wasn't as sad about the abandonment, she allowed herself to smile once in a while, and, on rare occasions, she even laughed.

Still, she got sad at times and often cried herself to sleep, but she was comforted in knowing that Fred and George would be there for her in the morning when she woke up. It was as though everything reset itself the moment she opened her eyes in the morning. Sleeping seemed to wash away the pain from the previous day.

"Hermione?"

She jolted from her thoughts, shaking her head as she did so. She looked beside her to see George handing her a biscuit, lifting questioning eyebrows.

"You're drifting again," he commented, nudging her shoulder with his.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she accepted the biscuit. "Just…thinking."

"About what?" he wondered.

"Aha!" Fred exclaimed from his spot on the floor by the coffee table. "You were right, George," he said, grinning triumphantly at his brother. "Password _is_ 'Prewett.'"

"'Course it is," George smirked. "I keep telling you you need to pay more attention. _You're_ the one who's helping Lee broadcast."

"Yeah, well, that's the problem with only doing it once in a while," Fred shrugged. "I never know the new password."

"You _listen_ to it every day," George reminded him with a laugh.

"Yeah, but Lee usually announces the next password when I'm away…or helping Hermione with her cooking. Which, by the way," he added with a fond smile, "is greatly improving, my dear."

She giggled softly and shrugged her shoulders. "I have a good teacher," she said.

Fred winked at her. "'Course you do."

With a sigh, he returned back to the wireless in his lap, listening to Lee's words closely. Hermione smiled, wondering why he and George never put that much focus into their schoolwork.

"You okay?" George asked, prodding her side with his finger.

She squirmed at his touch. "Yeah," she said. "Just tired, I guess."

He offered her a crooked smile. "All that…whatever it is you're doing in your room, eh?"

She shot him an uncertain look. Did he know? Did he suspect?

"What _are_ you doing in there, anyway? You're not crying the whole time you're in there, are you?"

Relieved that he didn't (hopefully) suspect, she exhaled softly and shook her head.

"No," she replied. "I'm not crying the _whole_ time."

"So, what _are_ you doing?"

She grimaced, not having the slightest clue what she should tell him. She never worked out an alibi for what she was doing in there. She couldn't tell him that she was researching ideas for Horcruxes, then she would have to explain everything to them. She couldn't tell him that she cried _most_ of the time she was in there, and she certainly couldn't tell him that she waited many long hours for Harry or Ron to contact her.

So she said the first thing that popped into her head.

"Knitting." She cringed, instantly regretting it.

"You're knitting?" George asked, lifting his eyebrows suspiciously at her.

"Y-yes," she stammered, wishing she had chosen to say something she could _actually_ do. She had never once picked up a knitting needle in her life.

"Why haven't we seen any of your knitting supplies, then?" he wondered.

She pursed her lips. "Err, because I'm knitting things for you two?"

His eyes lit up. "Really? What are you making?"

Hermione clamped her mouth shut and put on the best unimpressed look she could muster. She was sure it was weak, considering the panic she was feeling.

"I can't tell you that," she said, her voice surprisingly even. "It's a surprise."

George grinned. "You're really knitting us stuff?"

"Well, yeah. It's the least I can do for you guys. You've done so much for me."

He wrapped an arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Thanks," he told her, still beaming at her.

Awkwardly, Hermione crossed one leg over the other and nibbled on her biscuit, watching Fred as he talked animatedly into the wireless.

-oOo-

Hermione watched as Fred tinkered away on the wireless. Constantly frustrated with the fact that he never seemed to remember the passwords, he insisted on recording the broadcasts so he could listen to them later. He wasn't very successful with the recordings, and whenever she offered to help him, he objected and insisted he could do it on his own.

He was _so_ close to getting it.

"What are you thinking about now?" George asked as he sat down beside her.

"Knitting patterns," she said without thinking.

He grinned and handed her a cup of tea. She let the warmth sink into her chilled skin, closing her eyes in pleasure.

"Seriously?"

She smiled mischievously at him. "Maybe," she responded with a small shrug.

"How's the knitting going?"

She frowned slightly. To be honest, she hadn't even attempted to do any knitting. She was nervous that each attempt would be a failure and would frustrate her to no end. She knew she would have to eventually start knitting to prove that she really was doing what she said. But for right now, she wanted to enjoy Fred and George's company. She had missed out on the past few months and wanted to make up for last time.

She didn't want to be rude.

"You're not making us jumpers like mum's, are you?" he asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Hermione laughed. "I thought you and Fred liked them."

"Nah. We're only pretending. Percy's—"

George cut himself off, his throat emitting a sort of strangled grunt. At the sound of their brother's name, Fred looked up, shooting a murderous glare at his twin. His face softened after a second and he resumed his broadcast on Potterwatch.

George said no more. Instead, he looked down at the now cool cup of tea he held in his lap, brushing his thumb over the lip with hard strokes. He was still clearly angered over his older brother's betrayal.

She decided to leave it.

-oOo-

"Check mate," Hermione said proudly, beaming at George as he sulked at the chess board. He cringed when Hermione's bishop took his king.

"Isn't there something you're _not_ good at?" he grumbled, shaking his head in dismay.

"Of course there is," she said brightly. "Cooking," she offered, turning to grin at Fred. He looked up from the wireless and winked.

"Y'know," George mused as he set up a new game, determined to beat her at least once more before dinner. "I haven't seen you this happy since before Harry and Ron le—"

His eyes widened in realisation at what he was saying and stopped himself before he could finish. But it was too late. She already knew what he was going to say. All remains of her smile vanished, leaving only sadness and disappointment and abandonment. She had gone almost a week without once wanting to cry over her lost friends. For the first time in ages, she had actually been _happy_, despite what was going on.

"Damn it, Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, hating himself for even mentioning her friends.

"No, it's okay," she lied, shutting down. "I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit before dinner. Thanks for the game, George."

She got up before he could protest and scampered off to her room like she had done many times before.

-oOo-

She felt guilty for holing herself in her room again, so she emerged an hour later. It wasn't George's fault and she couldn't punish him for something he didn't mean to say. He was right: she hadn't been this happy in ages and it was all thanks to them.

She was about to go into the sitting room and apologise for her actions when she heard it. Stifling a yelp, she jumped a few inches off the ground, her eyes widening at the sound of something smashing into the floor. Afraid one of the twins had hurt themselves — or worse, a Death Eater had found them — she raced into the room, pulling her wand from her back pocket.

She stopped short when she saw George consoling Fred, who sat in a crumpled heap of limbs and broken bits of metal. George looked up, a sullen look on his face, and shook his head. He bent his neck to whisper something in Fred's ear, who nodded ever so slightly, and got up.

As he approached Hermione, George cast a glance over his shoulder at his brother, who had his face buried in his knees.

"What happened?" Hermione whispered worriedly.

"It's Verity," he answered in a shaky but hushed voice. "Sh-she's gone. They found her and…"

He trailed off, but she didn't need him to finish. She already knew. Verity was dead.

She had heard only snippets about Fred's relationship with Verity. It had started only a year ago when she began working with them, but their love was steadfast and strong. She could see the twinkle in his eyes whenever he talked about her.

"Oh, Fred," she lamented, turning to go comfort the hurting man.

George gripped her arm before she could go to him. She turned to him, offering him a confused look.

"Leave him alone," he said with a shake of his head. He let go of her arm and she watched sadly as he walked back to his brother, sinking down on the couch beside him.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! As always, I'll be sending sneak peeks of the next chapter with review replies. Don't forget to follow me on Twitters CallinectesFF to get updates and such.


	8. Flying

**Chapter 8: Flying**

Hermione's cooking lessons came to an abrupt halt after learning about Verity's death. While she enjoyed the lessons, she knew better than to disturb Fred when he was in his depressed moods. He spent a majority of his time moping about, occasionally snapping at Hermione and George for bothering him so much.

But mostly, he just sat without speaking.

The tent was eerily quiet. Hermione eventually brought her reading out into the sitting room to keep the twins company. Fred's silence and bad moods sometimes reflected onto his brother, and her presence somehow seemed to deflect any negative energy that floated around them.

After remembering that she could disillusion her book covers so that Fred and George would think she was reading about knitting patterns, Hermione realised she didn't have to keep hiding in her room. Not only did the twins become less suspicious of her activities in her room, but she could keep an eye on Fred and his depression, as well.

George often teased her for reading about knitting patterns. Her only reply was to tell him that she would never learn anything new unless she read up on the various patterns. Eventually, she had to cast a disillusionment charm on the pages themselves because for some unfathomable reason, George had gotten into the habit of reading over her shoulder.

Despite the torture Fred was enduring, as the days went on, she found herself growing closer and closer to the twins.

She knew they were two separate people, but it didn't hit her until she _really_ got to know them. While Fred and George were inseparable and had so many similarities between them, they had just as many differences. Hermione always found Fred to be a little crueler than George, but during her time spent with the twins, she also learnt that George was slightly better than his twin at Transfiguration and repairing charms. He proved the latter when Hermione broke the teapot and he managed to repair it with a lazy flick of his wand.

"This is stupid," George growled, standing up from his spot on the couch. Fred and Hermione both looked up at him, both wearing alarmed expressions at their tent-mate's outburst. He turned to his brother first.

"Fred, yes, Verity is dead, but you can't just sit and mope around. It's not healthy. You have to get off your arse and do something."

"George, I—" Fred tried to protest, but his twin cut him off.

"I don't _care_ how sad and miserable you're feeling right now. What's that Muggle saying? There's plenty of fish in the sea?"

"_George_," Fred growled. He was _not_ in the mood for a pep talk about how he would find love again.

"And _you_, Hermione," George went on, ignoring his brother's plea. She dropped her book in surprise when he turned his attention on her. "You have _got_ to stop reading your damn knitting books. It makes you even _more_ annoying, which I honestly didn't think was possible until now. Your twat-faced friends left you. Yeah, we know you're still sad about it, but get over it. I'm sure they had a bloody good reason to do it."

"George," she whispered, narrowing her eyes at him. But he ignored her.

"The three of us need to do something to get over this misery," he finished.

With a huff, he stormed off to the room he shared with his brother.

Hermione and Fred exchanged worried glances, the former tentatively getting to her feet.

"Should we be worried?" she asked, peering into the small hallway to see if George would emerge right away. When he didn't, she turned to Fred.

"Err, not sure, actually," he admitted with a ghost of a laugh. "Never seen him like this before. He—"

Before he could finish, George returned, holding up three brooms. He tossed one to Fred and another to Hermione, who let out a surprised yelp and dropped the broom.

"We're going flying," George announced proudly.

Fred lifted his eyebrows with curiosity. "Why?"

"To get your minds off your misery, of course," George explained.

"As much as I appreciate the gesture," Hermione said slowly, "I really hate flying."

George grinned at her. "We'll teach you."

"We shouldn't all go at once," she replied nervously. "Someone should stay behind to make sure no one finds our camp."

"Yeah, I s'pose you're right," George nodded. "Fred and I will go out for a bit first. We'll find somewhere safe. When we come back, one of us will teach you to fly."

"But I don't—"

"Come on, Fred," George said, ignoring her again. He helped his brother to his feet. There was no arguing with him.

"Wait!" Hermione shouted before either of the twins could leave.

Alarmed by her outburst, they both stopped in their tracks, brooms slung over their shoulders, and turned to face her. Without a moment's hesitation, Hermione ran to Fred and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Please be careful," she said, blushing when he awkwardly returned the embrace. "Any sign of danger, and you two return immediately and we'll disapparate. Make sure no one sees you."

When she released him, Fred offered her a crooked grin and tousled her hair affectionately.

"Yes, Mum," he teased.

"Where's mine?" George asked,lifting his eyebrows at her expectantly.

She let out a breathy, nervous laugh and hugged him, too. She wasn't sure if she should have been surprised that he was a little more enthusiastic to return her hug than Fred was. The latter _was_ still heartbroken over Verity's death, and was only now just beginning to recover, thanks to his brother's help.

"Please be careful," she repeated before sending them off.

-oOo-

"I'm still not sure about this," Hermione said, staring at the broom as if it was going to bite her.

George pressed it into her hands, letting out an annoyed sigh. This was the tenth time she expressed her concern, and it did nothing to convince him that these flying lessons were such a good idea.

"Look, if we're ever in a situation that doesn't allow us to disapparate, we're _going_ to have to use our brooms," he insisted for the tenth time. "You're going to have to be comfortable on a broom, whether it's on your own or with someone else."

She pursed her lips, shaking her head. "What if someone finds us out here?"

"No one will. Fred and I searched the area extensively yesterday and you put up your protective charms, remember?" he reminded her with a smile.

"Oh," she said, sounding a little disappointed.

He knew she wanted to get out of these flying lessons, but even she had to admit it was inevitable. He brought up a valid point and she knew it.

"Flying is easy if you let it," he told her, pressing the broom into her grip again.

Sighing, she nodded, her face slowly morphing into a determined expression.

"Fine," she said, holding the broom gingerly in her hands, which caused George to laugh.

"No," he said, moving beside her. "That is _not_ how you hold a broom."

She shot him an angry glare, which made him laugh again. He dropped his own broom and repositioned hers so that the bristles were by her feet and her right hand gripped the handle in front of her left. Then he gently nudged her right foot with his so that it lifted up and over the broom shaft and she was now straddling the broom.

"Better," he said with a satisfied nod. "Now to get into the air, you're just going to gently kick off the ground and pull up with your fore hand. That's the one in front—"

"Yes, I know what 'fore' means," she grumbled irritable. "You go up first. Being watched makes me nervous."

Grinning, he nodded and mounted his own broom before kicking off into the air.

"See?" he shouted when he was about ten feet into the air. "Easy!"

"Maybe for you," she mumbled under her breath.

Sighing, she pursed her lips kicked off, pulling up on the broom handle. She let out a yelp, realising too late that she used both of her hands to pull up instead of just her fore hand. The broom bucked violently in the air and, just when she thought she was going to fall to the ground, her broom steadied itself.

Only it wasn't her doing. George had instinctively shot out his hand to still her broom, holding onto it with a firm grip until it ceased to buck.

"Thanks," she whispered, not sure if he even heard her. She was afraid to even turn her head to smile gratefully at him in fear of falling.

"All right there, Hermione?" George asked, concerned.

She nodded her head nervously, which caused her broom to jerk again. She yelped, nearly falling off. She hugged her broom tightly and closed her eyes, wishing her broom would calm down.

George struggled to keep her broom in control whilst maintaining his balance on his own broom. But her broom jerked around violently and was ripped out of his hand. He watched with a mixture of horror and dread as Hermione and her broom did a funny somersault before plummeting to the ground.

Instinct kicked in and he immediately flew down in an attempt to catch her before she hit the ground, but he was too late. She had already hit the ground with a sickening thud before he got to her. He landed heavily and haphazardly discarded his broom, rushing to her side.

"Are you okay?" George asked frantically, but he already knew she was hurt. Anyone would have gotten injured from falling that height and that speed.

"I-I think I'm okay," she groaned.

She lifted her arm to inspect it and winced in pain. A large, ugly gash sliced into the top of her forearm. It wasn't bleeding badly, but it was definitely painful and unpleasant to look at.

"I'm _so_ sorry," he apologised, helping her to her feet. He ripped off the hem of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around her arm. He knew it wouldn't help much in healing her arm, but it was the best he could do until she could get proper medical attention.

"I think it's best we take a break," she said with a weak laugh.

Dejectedly, he nodded and clumsily gathered their brooms.

"George, it's not your fault. It's fine. It's only a cut. I have some Essence of Dittany in my bag back at the tent."

He nodded and took hold of her uninjured arm before disapparating back to their campsite.

-oOo-

"George, you don't have to," she protested, trying to grab the Dittany from George. "I'm more than capable of doing this myself."

But he was too quick for her. He yanked his hand back away from her reach.

"Yes I do," he countered. "It's my fault you got hurt."

"No," she said. "You were absolutely right." She sighed, knowing Fred and George would tease her _endlessly_ for saying one of them was right about something, but he needed to hear this. "I should learn to fly. It's something I've been putting off for a long time and if the situation where we need to get away on broom _does_ come up, I'd only slow you two down. If I need to learn to fly a broom, then this is the only way to do it. I'm sure you and Fred fell of your brooms plenty of times before you got it right."

"Well, not really," George admitted sheepishly. "We were naturals when we first learned to fly."

Hermione rolled her eyes; she shouldn't have been so surprised.

"What?" he asked innocently. "Have you ever seen Fred and me fall of our brooms?"

"Well, no," she admitted.

"There you have it," he said proudly, beaming at her. "Now give me your arm so I can fix that ugly gash before it scars."

She hesitated before complying, flinching slightly when George's hands made contact with her skin. She winced when his fingers gingerly brushed over the cut on her arm.

Since her fall, George had been distracting her from the pain by making lame attempts to make her laugh. She was grateful for it, and it somehow made her rethink how she saw the twins before. They weren't just pranksters who managed to get what they wanted and do as they pleased. They were kind and thoughtful and, above all else, they were risk takers.

They always had been, and not just because they had risked everything to protect her. They had risked their home, their business, their romantic interests. But they also risked everything to get to where they were now in life. They were successful not because they put everything into their work, but because they risked everything to get to where they were. They had a lot to lose, but it was all worth it for them.

Such an admirable quality.

And now, she didn't just find herself captivated by the values George and his brother possessed, but the intensity in his eyes as he studiously surveyed the wound on her arm. She was so mesmerised, in fact, that she barely heard her say her name.

"Err, Hermione?" George said, his intensity morphing into concern. "Did you hit your head, too?"

"What?" she asked, snapping out of her trance. "Sorry, George. I'm ready."

He grinned and, letting go of her arm, he unstoppered the bottle before applying the medicine generously to the cut. He cringed when she hissed in pain and tried to retract her arm.

"Sorry," he mumbled, tightening his hold on her arm. "Just a bit more and we're done."

Grimacing with concentration, he put a few more drops on the slowly healing gash. When he was done, he let out a relieved breath before stoppering the bottle and returning it to her bag. He then resumed holding her arm to make sure the cut healed properly, watching as the sides of the wound stitched themselves together.

"Thank you," she whispered, offering him a tired smile.

"Any time," he replied.

And then Hermione made the mistake of looking up, swallowing a gasp when she found that he was looking at her. She stiffened, not quite sure what to do now. Her heart began beating rapidly and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. When she realised that he was still holding her arm, she yanked it out of his grasp and stumbled off the couch and onto her feet.

"I-I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit," she murmured.

"Probably a good idea," he grinned.

WHen she got to her room, she felt very confused by what just happened. Was it her imagination, or did his gaze and his touch linger longer than normal? Even if they _were_ normal, why did she feel the way she did? _That_ couldn't have been normal.

Whatever it was she was feeling, it kept her up most of the night.

-oOo-

"Tell me again why we only have one broom today?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms uneasily over her chest.

Whatever feeling she experienced the day before, she was certain she had imagined it because she _definitely_ wasn't feeling it now. She now felt a sense of dread and impending doom. Surely what he was suggesting _would_ result in the breaking of at least one of her bones.

Either way, she concluded that the emotions that engulfed her the previous day were as a result of the adrenaline that coursed through her veins the brief moments she was flying. The fear that gripped her must have been so intense that she thought she felt something for George.

She was wrong. The twins were merely doing what they promised Harry and Ron: they were only protecting her. Flying lessons were included. Teaching her how to fly was only one of the many ways to protect her. Fred would have helped her with these lessons, but he said it was Georges turn to teach her her next skill.

If only flying was as easy as cooking.

She was foolish to think she could have feelings for George. He was Ron's older brother. It was…wrong. Besides, no matter how angry Ron made her, there was still something between them. There _had_ to be.

"Well, seeing how _beautifully_ you flew yesterday, I thought we'd do something a little differently," George explained, grinning when she blushed. "I'll show you how to control the broom. It's easy, really. You just need to relax."

She snorted. "You _do_ know who you're talking to, right? I'm sort of the opposite of relaxed. Or hadn't you noticed yet?"

"Believe me," he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. "I've noticed."

"Okay," he said a bit louder this time as he mounted the broom. "Just swing your leg over the broom handle and let me do all the work."

She hesitated before doing so. She had absolutely nothing to be afraid of. George was a skilled flier and he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Taking a deep breath, she awkwardly swung her leg over the broom handle and settled onto it, gripping it tightly until her knuckles turned white.

George breathed out a laugh from behind her and put his hand on her waist, sliding her back on the broom so she was sitting flush against him. She tensed even more, only allowing her muscles to loosen when he told her to relax again.

"You'll be fine," he promised. "Just relax and let me do all the work, yeah?"

She nodded jerkily and let out the breath she wasn't aware she was holding. She closed her eyes when he kicked off, not wanting to watch the ground as it shrank away below them.

"You're doing great," he assured her, his muscles flexing around her as he moved. "It might help if you open your eyes. Might want to pay attention to what I'm doing."

Taking a deep breath, she opened one eye at a time. She looked once at the ground and nearly panicked before remembering that George was behind her with his arms creating a protective barrier around her so she wouldn't fall.

She could do this. All she had to do was let George do the work and not be terrified.

As they soared over the field, Hermione slowly found herself becoming less and less scared. She started to get used to the feeling of flying and, to her surprise, felt increasingly confident. She could do this. All she had to do was concentrate and think about the ground being many metres below them.

"You're doing really well," George commended.

The sudden sound of his voice startled her. Almost forgetting that he was on the broom behind her, Hermione gasped and flinched, causing the broom to jerk.

"Whoa!" he shouted, his arms tensing up as he tried to get the broom under control.

Terrified that they would crash, especially considering they were much higher than she was the day before, she gripped the broom handle hard with one hand and dug her nails into George's thigh beside her. She closed her eyes, waiting for the broom to settle down.

When it finally did, she opened her eyes to find that they had landed safely, but were still on her broom.

"All right, Hermione?" George asked breathlessly.

Unable to find her words, she nodded her head nervously.

"Good," he said. His voice sounded a bit strained. "In that case, you can let my leg go now."

Her eyes widened with shock and she quickly extracted her hand from his thigh, completely forgetting she had done that. Then she became aware of something else. An arm — George's arm — was wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly to him.

"You can let go of me too," she whispered.

She turned around on the broom so she could look at him, her face a mere inch away from his. The grin that tugged at his mouth slowly faded and they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

George was the first to snap out of the trance.

"Well, I think this is a good place to stop," he said, shaking his head. "You did really well," he added with a lopsided smile. "We can continue tomorrow."

-oOo-

Flying lessons with George continued; each day she improved and they both seemed to have forgotten that strange moment between them. Hermione spent countless hours in bed trying to analyse the situation, only to wear out her brain and fall asleep.

It was almost a week before Hermione was brave enough to fly again on her own. And when she did, she did it almost perfectly.

Relief washed over her as soon as her feet touched the ground, and there was a huge grin plastered on her face. George whooped for joy before rushing over to hug her. But instead of a hug, something very different and unexpected happened.

He kissed her instead. It was unintentional, awkward, and very brief. Hermione and George pulled away quickly, staring at each other with wide eyes; both were equally surprised.

"Sorry," he said hastily.

"Thank you," she replied quickly, cringing at how awkward and out of place it sounded. "Not for the…kiss…but for teaching me to fly."

_Thank you_? When he didn't respond at first, she inwardly berated herself for sounding so stupid.

"Right," he said, unsure of what else he was supposed to say.

"George?"

_This was it_, he told himself. This was the 'we're just friends' speech, and he wasn't sure that was what he wanted. Truthfully, he wasn't sure _what_ he wanted.

"Yeah?" he managed.

"Really. Thank you," she repeated, offering him a warm smile. She reached out to take one of his hands in both of hers. "For everything," she added.

He hesitated, still waiting for the speech to come. When he didn't, he returned the smile.

Letting go of him, she moved her hands up to rest on his shoulders. Standing on her tip toes, she brushed her lips against his cheek.

"We should probably get back," she said reasonably when she rocked back onto the flats of her feet. "It's my turn to cook dinner and I'm sure Fred will be worried about us."

**A/N:** _Thanks for reading! As usual, I'll be sending out sneak peeks with my review replies_


	9. Lies

**Chapter 9: Lies**

George shivered as he shrugged into his heavy coat, breathing into his hands in an attempt to warm them. Glancing over at Hermione, he watched with a frown as she stalled in putting on her own coat. What was she waiting for? It was _freezing_!

"It's getting cold out," he observed, hoping this would shake her out of whatever funk she was in.

She had been like this the past few weeks. During their 'flying lessons,' which had turned into snogging sessions, she would be perfectly happy and okay one minute, then quiet the next. In the beginning, there was less sadness and distance, but over the course of their outings, as the weather grew colder, so did her mood.

"Yes," she agreed distractedly.

Finally, she slipped into her coat and turned to George, offering him a tiny smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked, creasing his brow in concern.

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "Just a lot on my mind, I suppose."

"Anything you wanna talk about?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Y'know," he said, walking over to her. He wrapped his arms around her and could't help but smile when she rested her head against his chest. "We _can_ tell him about us. There's no need for all this secrecy."

"I know," she said with a tiny shrug of her shoulders. "I just don't want whatever this is between us to become too much of a distraction. We're still on the run and if—"

"Hermione, trust me," he said in a serious tone. "Everything will be fine. Everything _is_ fine. No harm will come to any of us. I promise. Fred and I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know."

She knew it would be a losing battle, trying to convince George their relationship was a bad idea. No matter how much danger it did or did not put them in, she couldn't stand the thought of losing him. And while she hated the idea of lying to Fred about them, she still thought it might be better to keep things quiet. She feared that outing their relationship might be distracting and set off a chain reaction of unfortunate events.

She couldn't help but play out worst case scenarios in which one or all of them ended up dead…or worse.

"What's today's date?" she asked, deciding it was best to change the subject. She didn't want to think about losing him.

She knew the Winter Solstice was soon approaching, what with the weather turning icy, but she seemed to have lost track of time lately.

George squinted his eyes in thought. "5th of November. Why?"

"No reason," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "It really is getting cold," she finally agreed.

He grinned and tightened his hold on her.

"I know of some fantastic ways to keep you warm," he offered mischievously, bending down to press his lips against hers in a lingering kiss.

She chuckled against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. She could definitely get used to this. Just when she was getting into it and finally finding herself warm, the coin in her pocket began to vibrate. Reluctantly, she pulled away and sighed, attempting to hide a grimace.

"We should probably get back," she said, hoping her voice didn't sound too urgent. "We've been out here a while."

She inwardly cringed at the disappointed look on his face. He looked as though he had just been told he couldn't have his promised favourite dessert.

"Yeah, I s'pose," he agreed glumly.

George bent to pick up the long forgotten brooms before taking Hermione's hand in his. A second later, they found themselves back in the tent.

-oOo-

"_Loqui per pecuniam_," Hermione whispered at the coin as she settled onto her bed. She folded her legs beneath her and waited for Harry to respond.

"_Hermione_?"

She rolled her eyes, grateful he couldn't see her annoyance. Who else would have answered his call?

"Yeah," she said. "What is it?"

Harry hesitated.

"_Something happened_."

She frowned, scenarios of Harry and Ron narrowly escaping capture flashing across her mind.

"What happened?" she asked, holding her breath as she waited for the worst.

"_Ron left_."

There was nothing that could have prepared her for such a statement. She stared at the coin, her brain working out what Harry had just told her. It had to be a lie. It couldn't have been true. Ron would never have done that. He would never betray Harry.

She must have heard him wrong.

"Sorry?"

"_Ron left_."

She then bit back a laugh, thinking he was playing some sort of cruel joke. Except this wasn't funny. This was mean and cruel.

"You're joking."

"_Hermione, I'm serious. Ron's gone. He just…left_."

Numb. That was all she felt. Actually, she wasn't sure that was an accurate depiction of how she really felt. There was anger too. And betrayal. So much betrayal. How could Ron leave?

Then a sickening thought struck her.

Harry was alone…

"Why?" she asked with the greatest amount of urgency in her voice.

"_I don't know_," Harry responded, the panic evident in his voice. "_He kept going on about how much you and I talk and how he's never involved and…I don't know, Hermione. One minute he was fine and the next he was just…blowing up at me about us and — I don't know what to do. He was wearing the locket_."

"Did he take it with him?"

"_No. I made him take it off before he…left. He just sounded so angry. He kept blaming me for not being able to find the Horcruxes. Then he blamed me for…abandoning you. Said it was my fault we left you behind_."

"Did you try to find him?"

There was a pause before she heard his voice again.

"_I—how, Hermione_?" He sounded annoyed. "_What was I supposed to do? Run after him? Scream into the night until someone captured me_?"

That's what she would have done.

"Well, you should've done _something_, Harry. You shouldn't have just let him go like that! What if something happens to him? This wouldn't have happened if I was there."

That wasn't exactly fair and she knew it. But she was angry at Ron for not just leaving her, but for leaving him, as well. Harry had no control over the situation. It wasn't really his fault.

"_You're actually worried about him? Hermione, I have enough to worry about what with finding these bloody Horcruxes and worrying about you. Now I have to worry about him as well_?"

"Do you want me to come find you?"

"_No_," he responded shortly. "_Just stay put. I'll be fine_."

"Harry, you're all alone—"

"_I said I'll be fine_," he snapped.

Before she could say any more, he closed the connection. Dropping her head in her hands, she sighed. How could this have happened? How was Harry going to survive on his own? She worried enough about the two of them by themselves enough as is, but now that it was just him, her worry increased tenfold.

-oOo-

"Hey, Hermione?" George called from the entrance to her room. He held a pair of brooms in his hands, looking at her with concern as she lay on her side, facing away from him. "Are you ready to go flying?"

She did not respond.

Setting down the brooms, he entered her room, sitting down on the edge of her bed. Still, she did not acknowledge him.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

Hesitantly, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and shook gently, thinking perhaps she was asleep. When she let out a shuddering sigh, he retracted his hand.

He wondered if he did anything wrong or did something to offend her. He thought hard about the day before and how she wanted to return to the tent so soon. She appeared to be enjoying the time she spent with him over the weeks. Sure, she was jumpy whenever Fred walked in on them in the tent, even if they were just talking, but he had never seen her so withdrawn.

He hadn't even seen her for almost a whole day.

"Hermione?" he tried again.

No response.

Frowning, he got up and wordlessly left her room, casting a glance at her over his shoulder to see if she would react. He was almost certain he caught her wiping her face.

Before he left, he closed the flap, leaving it untied, and joined his brother in the sitting room.

"What's with her?" Fred asked when George flopped down in an armchair. "Don't think she left her room once since you two came back from your lessons. Did something happen?"

"Nah," George said, masking his concern with an indifferent shrug. Something _did_ happen, but he wasn't sure what. "She just wants to work on her knitting."

Fred furrowed his brow and looked up from the wireless that sat in his lap.

"I didn't realise how much she liked knitting," he said.

George shrugged again, which didn't satiate Fred's curiosity.

"Is there something going on?"

"No," George sighed.

Fred stared at his brother, not completely convinced. It was unlike George to keep secrets from him and vice versa. Even so, he had to trust his brother that everything was okay. Shaking his head, Fred returned to the wireless, knowing it was useless to try and get George to talk about something he obviously did not want to discuss.

-oOo-

"What?" Hermione asked flatly.

"_I just wanted to make sure you were okay_," Harry said.

"Oh, _you_ wanted to make sure _I_ was okay? How thoughtful." Her voice carried a tone that was full of hurt and betrayal.

"_I'm sorry_."

"I doubt it," she snapped, closing the connection before he could apologise more.

Since Ron's departure, she and Harry had been talking every night, each conversation as short and hostile as the last. They never talked about anything of importance; they mostly wanted to make sure one another was still alive. Each conversation ended up with Hermione in tears and feeling even more hurt.

That night was no different.

-oOo-

Weeks passed and Hermione was beginning to feel bad that she had hardly made an appearance with the twins. George snuck into her room every once in a while when Fred was asleep. Sometimes they talked, but they mostly just sat in silence. George did most of the talking, telling her about mundane, useless topics that she cared little about.

His visits seemed to temporarily improve her moods, but only slightly. As soon as he left, her thoughts immediately returned to how angry she felt.

Eventually, she dragged herself out of her room and joined the twins in the sitting room. As usual, Fred was tinkering away on the wireless while George sat on the floor and sorted through his collection of chocolate frog cards.

Fred was the first to notice her.

"Ah, so she returns from her knitting den," he greeted her with a cheery smile. "We thought we'd have to send in a search party. Thought maybe the yarn swallowed you alive."

Her returning smile was hesitant as she sat on the couch by George. He looked up at her, silently asking her if she was okay.

Truthfully, she was conflicted: she was hurt by Ron's betrayal towards Harry, but comforted by George's presence. Of course she was not okay, but his presence helped somewhat.

The best she could offer him was a tiny shrug of her shoulders, indicating that she would be okay.

"How's knitting?" Fred asked.

"Okay, I suppose," she replied, turning her attention to him.

"Anything we can see?"

"I haven't really finished anything yet," she admitted.

At least _that_ wasn't a lie. She did try her hand at knitting. She wasn't bad, but she hadn't been using magic to help her like she did with the house elves' hats. She was just too tired to use magic.

"You know it's bad luck to leave knitting projects unfinished, right?" George teased, grinning at her.

She scowled at him, hoping she didn't look too angry. She intended it to be a mock-scowl, but by the taken aback look on his face, she had failed. She shook her head, hoping he would take it as an apology and turned her attention to Fred, who was working on his wireless.

-oOo-

By mid December, her conversations with Harry had become decreasingly hostile. The words they exchanged were still brief, but the anger they shared had become less and less.

"_Hi, Hermione_," Harry greeted hesitantly.

"Harry," she returned formally.

"_I've been thinking_."

"Yes?"

Harry hesitated. "_I think we should go to Godric's Hollow_."

"Yes, I suppose we should."

"_I—what_?"

Hermione sighed before launching into a lecture on how it was the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor and how he really ought to read more. She then read him the passage in _A History of Magic_ that discussed the place.

They then discussed Bathilda Bagshot and how Dumbledore must have given the sword to her to keep safe. By the end of it, they had both been talking so excitedly, they both forgot they were angry. Hermione hardly even flinched when Harry almost mentioned Ron's name when he informed her Muriel said Bagshot currently lived in Godric's Hollow.

"Where should we meet?" Hermione wondered, a smile plastered on her face. "And when?"

"_Now_?"

"I don't think I can. Besides, we should really plan this out. It'll be dangerous, certainly. We'll need to use your Invisibility Cloak. Polyjuice potion might be advisable, as well. Yes — the thicker our disguises, the better."

"_When should we go to Godroc's Hollow_?"

She thought a moment. "Christmas Eve. There will be plenty of Muggles to hide amongst."

"_Hermione_?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"_Are you really with the twins_?"

"Yes, of course I am. Where else would I be?"

"_Are you with them at their flat_?"

"Harry, I have to go. They're expecting me."

Hermione quickly closed the connection, closing her eyes. She hated lying to Harry and knew he would be able to catch her in a lie even through the coin. Stowing the coin under her mattress, she left her room. Giving him the illusion that she was safe made him worry less about her and ensured his safety.

She found George alone in the sitting room, reading her copy of _Beedle the Bard_.

"Y'know," he said when she sat down next to him on the couch, "Mum used to read this to us when we were kids."

"Yes, I know," she replied quietly. She wondered why he was reading it — and how he got it. Did he go into her room?

Noticing the panic stricken look on her face, he smiled and bumped her shoulder with his. "You left it lying around."

Silently, she nodded.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Again, she nodded.

"Fine," she said softly. "I'm sorry I've been so—"

He shook his head firmly. "There's no need to apologise, Hermione," he said. "You're under a lot of stress. I get it. It's almost Christmas and you're without your friends for the first time. Don't worry. Fred and I have special plans for Christmas."

She frowned; she hadn't realised how close to Christmas it was. Soon, she would be meeting with Harry. Soon, it would be her turn to turn her back on the twins. Could she really do it? _Should_ she do it?

"You don't have to," she said, hating herself for leaving Fred and George — the only two people she could truly depend on. "Where's Fred?"

"In his room." He glanced down at her and wrapped his arm around her. Putting the book down, he held her close to him. "I have to say, I'm still a bit surprised you haven't left us yet."

She stiffened. Did he know something? Did she forget the silencing charm when she made her plans with Harry?

"I thought you would've left us ages ago to go find Harry and Ron," he admitted.

She relaxed a little; she was safe. But she still couldn't get rid of the sinking feeling that she _would_ have to leave the twins. She felt bad, but she _had_ to. She had a duty first to Harry, no matter what. She promised him that even though he and Ron left her behind, she would still help them any way she could.

"I could never leave you," she whispered, hating herself for lying to George.

Before he could respond, she looked up at him and kissed him.

**A/N:** _SO sorry this is late. I got a little busy and things came up and I've just been so exhausted the past week. I should hopefully be back on schedule now. If you're on Twitter, you should follow me CallinectesFF. On there, I'll make announcements about updates (if they're late or not) and such. And if you don't have a Twitter account, they're free to make, so join up and follow me! :) As always, I'll be responding to review with sneak peeks of the next chapter. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
